


Beginnings

by LoveMeKnot (sebastian_michaelishive)



Series: The Second Queen of King Lotor [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuban Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lancelot - Freeform, Langst, M/M, Rewrite, Stillbirth, Suicide Attempt, poor lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11918742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastian_michaelishive/pseuds/LoveMeKnot
Summary: REWRITEEndings can lead to new beginnings.





	Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> AIGHT so I know y'all are wondering "lmao why is this bitch rewriting her story when she isn't even three chapters in yet." WELL I got stuck trying to start the third chap and I didn't really like how it turned out, so I'm starting it on a different approach. I'm still going to update the chp-by-chp version, but I'm going to see how it goes trying to write it as a series so plzz bear with me y'all. 
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: GRAPHIC SUICIDE. STILLBIRTH. VOMITING. IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS, DO NOT READ.

The blood would not cease spurting out of his mouth. 

Lance choked out another sob along with a bit of blood as he curled up in agony, feeling his stomach give another angry squeeze, as if trying to get revenge on Lance for putting it through this pain. The control panel of his lonely pod was smeared with the thick, crimson liquid, and it smelled rancid, like rusty metal. He leaned over to vomit again, but one of his hiccups had caused him to choke on it, the disgusting taste only making him throw up even more. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to end, not at all. The moment he felt the acrid bile rise up in throat, he regretted _everything_. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. When he overdosed on those antidepressantshe had found in one of Blue's compartments, he had finally thought he had found the solution to his friend's burdens. He thought it had been perfect, a clean, quick, painless descent into oblivion, just like in the movies.  

Curse the damn movies, they all lied. That wasn't true at all. What was supposed to be a peaceful descent into eternal sleep turned into a nightmare from hell, except he wasn't dreaming. He was dying, slowly from the inside out as his insides wrecked themselves from the chemical poisoning he had inflicted upon them. His stomach gave another excruciating squeeze, desperately trying to rid his body of the killer pills in a last ditch effort to keep him alive. 

He reflected back on what he deemed to be a sad, sad life, looking back at his time as a carefree child. How happy he had been, so optimistic and full hope. So _infatuated_ with the dream of becoming a renowned fighter pilot, the best one history had _ever_ seen. 

What a joke. Didn't he know that real life only took your dreams and ripped them to pieces? Lance learned that the hard way. 

Depression had ripped up his self esteem. It had come out of nowhere when he was fourteen, leeching off of his flamboyance, leaving him with nothing but self doubt and anxiety. It was alright though, nothing a couple of happy pills couldn't fix, right? That's right. Happy go lucky, cocky, flirtatious Lance was just a product of feel good pumpin drugs. No one knew.  

Iverson had ripped up his sense of hope. Whenever he flunked a simulator, Lance always told himself not to worry, that he'll get better with time (and he was). Then came along Iverson to remind him that no, he was not getting better, and he never would get better. That the only reason he was even in fighter class was because the best pilot had flunked, and that there were other people more deserving of the position he was in. That all he'd ever be was a replacement. 

Finally, Keith had ripped up his dreams. His dream of becoming a renowned fighter pilot had been snatched out of his hands by that goddamn mullet prodigy and torn to itsy bitsy pieces. Keith had managed to prove to Lance without even trying that second best was all he'd ever be. Even worse was that Keith didn't even seem to care or even acknowledge his own ability. It made Lance's blood boil; why should he have all the praise and skill if he wasn't even going to recognize it? It wasn't fair, none of it was fair. 

Despite it all, Lance finally brought himself to accept it. He was replaceable, expendable.  Forever stuck in second place with no way of ever moving up. It was all he'd ever be. 

However, one should never underestimate being second place, for not all first placers are the best...and not every best is number one. 

* * *

* * *

 

 Axca couldn't breathe as she stared at a hysterical Queen Corral, who was clutching her stillborn son close, muttering some useless prayer to the gods for a goddamn miracle! Just this once, for crying out loud!

It had been a boy. Another failure. Another failure she would have to report back to Lotor. The fifth one, if she was being ultra specific.

Narti stood on the other side, Kova perched on her shoulder, looking at Axca expectantly.

Axca took a couple of moments to calm herself down, letting out a trembling sigh before whispering over to Narti.

"Give her another minute," she said. "Then take it away. I don't want her getting attached to it."

Narti gave her a wordless nod, knowing full well why Axca had asked her to do this.

Axca stepped out of the room, heading back to Princess Demosa's chambers. The Princess, who was the only surviving child Corral had managed to give Lotor, was just a month shy of turning six. She had been so excited to hear that her mother was going to have yet another child, especially since all her past little brother's kept on 'disappearing.' It broke Axca's heart knowing that she would have to once again the little child that the little brother she had been so hopefully waiting for for the past seven months had also disappeared. After being told so, she would rush over to her mother's room, once the child had been removed from the quarters, of course, and join her mother in grieving for the brother she had lost so early.

Axca entered her room, putting her right fist over her heart. Before she could even address the young princess properly, the ginger girl, who had been happily playing with Ezor and Zethrid, leapt from the floor and into her arms. The general grunted a bit at the sudden action, but nevertheless held on tightly to the girl, pressing a small peck to her pale temple.

"Axca!" She cried, and Axca smiled sadly at the child. She had her father's accent.

"Princess," she replied. "You seem excited..."

"I am!" the girl replied. "Can I go see my brother now?"

Axca froze, panic entering her system. How was she going to be able to tell her...how could she tell her? She was only a child...a child...so innocent and frail and full of hope-

"Princess!" It was Zethrid, and she came over to take Demosa from her arms. "Come outside with me. Axca has to talk to Ezor for a minute first, but after that, she'll tell you, okay?"

Demosa didn't put up a fight or squirm, instead looking up at the general with a small pout upon her face. "Only if I can climb on your big, strong lady muscles..."

Zethrid cackled, for this child was surely going to be the death of her. "Of course you can, Princess. Anything for you."

Demosa wasted no time dragging Zethrid out of her room, barely giving her any time to close the doors. As soon as they shut, Axca lunged forward and gripped onto a very startled Ezor tightly, her shoulders shaking lightly as she began to shed silent tears.

"Axca?!" Ezor asked, growing increasingly concerned for her. Axca...she never cried, not even when they were alone together. She was an expert in keeping her emotions in check, deeming them as conflicting during battle. It was rare to see her even crack a smile, so for her to just...it had Ezor high key concerned for her.

"I c-can't do this anymore, Ezor," she managed through gritted teeth, trying so hard not to full on sob. "I c-can't keep telling him that all his attempts were in vain...he wants it so badly...I can't keep tearing him down with every report..."

Ezor wrapped her arms around her, rubbing her back in tender circles, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head, trying to comfort her distraught love as best as she could. All of them were deeply loyal to Lotor, but Axca was the closest to him out of all of them. Ezor knew how much she cares for him, and how hard she worked to please him. Axca had come from absolutely nothing, but Lotor had given her everything and so much more. She couldn't stand letting him down like this over and over again. 

"Oh...oh, Axca," she murmured, "it'll be okay soon enough..."

Suddenly, Corral's heartbroken screeches pierced the air from the end of the hall, and they both knew what was happening. They heard the Queen scream and cry and beg in an almost maniacal way, and they could only imagine her, weakened and bedridden but fiercely trying to protect her son, even if he was dead, because it gave her hope that she was still of some worth to Lotor, that she was still capable of giving him what he wanted the most, which was a son. 

She wanted to cling onto the last string of hope, no matter how close it was to snapping. 

Corral suddenly went quiet, and they both let out a relieved sigh they hadn't known they'd been holding in. There was a reason Axca had left that job up to Narti. The mind control power she possessed would make her able to quiet the Queen down, and  make her give the stillborn up without a fight. 

After a moment, Axca finally pulled herself together and wiped her tears, trying to compose herself as best as she could. There was a child outside, carefree and innocent, trapped in a big, opaque bubble, blind to the cruel ways of the real world. But she had to know. 

"Bring her in," she called out, getting ready to pop that bubble once more.~

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anne Boleyn: SECOND and the most famous wife of King Henry VIII and mother to Queen Elizabeth I. 
> 
> Queen Elizabeth I: SECOND daughter of King Henry VIII and one of the most fondly remembered monarchs.


End file.
